


losing the star without a sky

by girljustdied



Category: Skins (UK)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-01-22
Updated: 2011-01-22
Packaged: 2019-10-08 22:22:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 709
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17394770
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/girljustdied/pseuds/girljustdied
Summary: cook goes to effy's, after.





	losing the star without a sky

**Author's Note:**

> post 4x08.

He doesn’t know how long he slept there on the floor at the foot of her bed. Doesn’t even know how he slept. Effy’s room is bright. It would hurt his eyes if his whole body weren’t already buzzing with pain. He knows he shouldn’t move. Flexes his feet, curves his back—shit idea. Shit.

“What’re you doing here, Cook?” Effy’s voice. That hurts. That really fucking stings.

Still, he opens his eyes to look at her. Feels everything slow. Numb. She’s sitting against the wall underneath a window, her hair a reddish flare around her face, arms wrapped around her knees. Her skin’s practically white.

He wonders if he’s dead.

Freddie. No. Don’t think about it. Pukes on the corner of comforter hanging down from her bed. It’s mostly blood. He’d tell her ‘sorry,’ but he’s done worse to her sheets before. Plus he doesn’t know what words might come out instead.

It’s like her. Just to set there, staring. Couldn’t tend to his wounds or nothing. Couldn’t have that, yeah. All he can do is feel it. Feel every millimeter of it. Feel her.

“Cook,” she says again. That’s it. She’s never got fuck all to say when he needs her to. He’s angry for a second, but he can’t hold onto it. He’s the same.

She crawls forward towards him. Slow. Slow. Uncertain. No. Unfamiliar. Tugs his head up away from his own vomit and into her lap.

“Where is he?”

There haven’t been many times where Cook’s wanted to believe in an afterlife or what have you, but this is definitely one of them. Where is he? _Where are ya, Freds?_

He’s not gonna bawl like a fucking twat in Effy’s lap. Just isn’t. Focuses on his breathing, clenches his fists in the skirt of her dress. Exhale. Exhale. Exhale. Feels his face contort, mouth twist and jaw clench. Heart’s racing, yeah. Boom boom boom.

She starts to hum. Presses her hands into the knotted muscles in the back of his neck. Gutted, man. Just gutted by this girl every single day. He wishes he were dead. Thinks back to that time on the boat last year. Dear old dad, waste of space, tosser, that flare centimeters from his cheek—

_“I’ll fuckin’ do it. I don’t give a fuck.”_

_“I don’t, either.”_

Then Freddie. A reason for living. No. Don’t think about it. That’s over.

He shouldn’t of come here. Problem is he’s never been very good at not coming to Effy. Grabs at her, pulls her down until she’s lying on her side facing him. Buries his head in her neck. Inhale. Inhale. Inhale. Loses time. Fades in and out.

Her hands are cold. Her nails are blunt. She’s well scared. These are not new observations.

“Say something. Say something to me.”

He is not afraid to die.

“Mum! Mum!” she starts screaming at the top of her lungs. No one’s home.

Brave, yeah? You loved me once, didn’t you, girl? Just a bit? Lie to me. When they find me they’re gonna string me up. Let’s share some. Quit looking at me like I’m the one off my trolley here. I’m the only real friend you’ve ever had, yeah? You’re gonna miss this when it’s gone.

“I will—” she’s frantic. “Please stop. Please stop.”

“I don’t even know how I fucking got here,” it doesn’t sound like his voice, but he can feel them words pulling from his breast.

She crying. She’s laughing. “You broke the glass in the front door. Bled all over the stairs. It’s a mess.”

Sounds about right.

“Listen to me,” he rolls onto his back—good, it relieves some of the weight on his chest. “Freds—he’s—” he coughs. Tastes blood. Feels like he’s drowning real slow. He’s gotta sit up. He can’t sit up.

Effy digs her hands into his wrists and pulls hard until he’s sitting, leaning back against her bed.

“He’s gone,” she’s breathless, and broken. They’re the same, she sees, yeah. She gets it. The finality. “Now stop. I need—”

“I’m sorry, Eff. I am.”

There isn’t even a flash of accusation in her eyes. Everything else, maybe. Everything and nothing. So blue.

He holds onto that. Grips it tight. He’s gonna need it.


End file.
